My grandmother had a cupboard full of homemade sweets and savouries. The key was always at her waist as she wore it like a sari tassel. I remember her silver gossamer like hair that we used to play with. She always handed out those keys to my sister and me as she trusted us.
We would count the members around and take only one sweet for each person. Even though she scolded my aunt and uncles, we had a special privilege and she pampered us. These holiday memories in our ancestral home contain the joys of a lifetime.
The pond where we played, the canal which overflowed in monsoons with big fish jumping the hedges to our pond and a tiny market in the village crossroad that lodged the glass bangle seller shops. My grandmother had cows, a goat and its kid, several hens and ducks.
We were fascinated by the mother hen who laid eggs under a bamboo basket and the milkman who milked the cows in the early afternoon.
We could walk to almost all our relatives’ homes and evenings were well spent with cousins and aunts who raced to indulge as well as tease us in equal measures. Often our favourite memory is related to our childhood. Those moments may seem small, but they are the ones that last.
Opening our imaginations
My mother has always encouraged us to cherish the memories that we love. She has an unparalleled memory of all our great-grandfather’s stories and her childhood with her six siblings. We often pester her to open her box of memories. She has a way with narration which has opened our imagination.
My father had a deep belief in us. My dad was very energetic and would create an aura wherever he went. He spoke very fast and his actions were swift. My favourite memory with him is the one a few days before he passed away. We were on vacation and we were talking about walking sticks for the elderly.
My sister and I ran to slide the shirt that my mom had freshly pressed for him around his arms and shoulder. He remarked that he would never require a walking stick in his life if he had children like us. It is etched in my memory and the perfume ‘Brut’ sometimes takes me back to those moments.
The mango boxes of summer season always bring his memories back to our dining table with an extraordinary sweetness. He would buy boxes after boxes from the old Hamriya market. It was a festival at home as he peeled the skin to a single strand and diced the mangoes and gave it to us. Some days we had the treat of downing full mangoes after squeezing them to pulp.
Our brains as coding devices
As long as we carry these memories in our heart, life becomes bearable. Favourite people, places and memories from the past are our anchors. They steady us when we feel we are at sea in our lives.
To remember, the brain must actively forget
Researchers find evidence that the neural systems actively remove memories which suggests that forgetting maybe the default mode of the brain. Without forgetting, our brain acts as a coding device and records even the smallest events of a day in detail, but then forgets it in subsequent weeks or months. The brain does not immediately filter out important memories, but eventually gets to them.
As much as we hold the favourite memories close to our heart, as May draws to a close, it feels like a lifetime has passed from last year to now.
The shocks and vagaries of a cruel year daunt us and sometimes it feels as if we all will drown in its throes. It’s better that these memories fade off and I am waiting for my brain to edit these recollections. I hope there are some favourite memories I can make when this year ends.
Life is beautiful, as it is, even when we pass through an unruly year. Memories are like pearls on a string of chain called life.
“Sometimes you will never know the value of a moment until it becomes a memory,” cited Dr. Seuss. The best memories of our life can never be captured, they can only be relished.
Feby Imthias is a writer based in Abu Dhabi. Twitter: @Feby_Imthias
